


ClockWise

by Cactus_Candy



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Blowjobs, Comedy, Cunnilingus, Drama, Established Relationship, F/M, Feels, Fluff and Angst, Forduary, Gen, Monsters, Multi, Mystery Twins, PTSD, Poly!Pines, Polyamory, Psychological Drama, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Romance, Rough Sex, Sex on the hood of a car, Shower Sex, Slow Burn, The Tree Trio, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M, Young Grunkle Ford, Young Grunkle Stan, all the sex, fan novel, handjobs, pervy old men, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-03-23 07:53:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13783104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cactus_Candy/pseuds/Cactus_Candy
Summary: An accident in the Lab results in Stanley and Ford to reverse in age by 30 years. At first it seems amazing, Both are ecstatic to have their youth and vitality back and you honestly don't have any complaints either (especially with how much Stamina they both have behind closed doors). But You begin to notice something is off. Every week they are looking younger. Their hair is getting less gray and their skin is getting less wrinkly (And its not just the new lights Ford invented either.) After one day waking up to find they have regressed to teenagers, your fears are confirmed. The pair are aging backwards more and more each day.  And its a race against time before they cease to exist all together. It is up to you to save the both of them before its too late. But the future looks bleak and you are only a protegee! With the crazy mishaps and misadventures that happen along the way at every turn and under the threat of Enemies old and new,Can you find a way to save them in time?





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> And thank you for clicking on/ picking up my fan-novel!  
> I deeply appreciate that you, the lovely reader, are taking your time to read it. Hopefully you can stick with me along the coming exciting journey.  
> Its going to be a rollercoaster of feels.
> 
> This blossomed from a small idea I got last winter, based originally as a gift for my best friend CQ  
> (who is just a much an obsessed GF fan as I am – journal and all) and It grew into something so much bigger than I initially would have ever imagined! 
> 
> Bare with me for this story is going to be very long at a full 25 chapters!  
> Yes you read that right. This is a new concept I am field testing.  
> For which I have created and coined the term “Fan Novel” to describe. Unlike the traditional Fanfic set up, This story is going to read out like a full classic novel, placing the reader as one of the main protagonist. 
> 
> I adore Gravity falls, and I really poured my love for the series and the characters into this story. I came into the fandom quite late, and like everyone else, was sad when I reached the last episode and it was time for summer to end. So I really wanted to created an immersive experience for the reader – Something sentimental that would make them swoon and laugh and cry and have a chance to live the adventure I have spun.
> 
> A chance to in a way, spend one more summer with our favorite characters.
> 
> This is also sort of a test run for my writing style. I want to publish my own original works at some point starting next year – so I am gauging to see how much people like it. I am rather new to writing Reader-insert stories, but am told I am very good at it. I hope I can create a wonderful and emotional experience for you! So please, feel free to leave me a comment or kudos to let me know if I am doing a good job!
> 
> Thank you again for choosing to read my work!  
> Let's jump through this portal together.
> 
> -CC

* * *

       

 

                                                                                      

 _A_ Gravity Falls Fan-Novel

 _Written by_ Cactus_Candy

 

 

 

 Prologue

 

 

 

  **Time waits for no one.**

__

 Growing up, this was something their mother would often say to them. Over and over. Again and again.

From the time they were small boys chasing each other with sticks on the beach, well up into their years of knocking on adulthood's chiseled and weather-stripped door.

 For the most part the gig she ran was a fraud, but until this day Ford swore up and down that his mother had a real supernatural gift to see things beyond the horizon of fate. Things that were beyond her time on this earth.

Even now as an old man, that saying of hers was still something that came to his mind often. Ingrained in him like iron. As much a part of him as salt was the sea.

 

Looking back on it now, he believed that her repetitive riddle was a warning.

The most important lesson to them that she would ever teach.

 

 

                  .

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Home/ Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ford reminisces on the past while working feverishly on a secret new project.

        

 

April 1st

 

The sun was beginning to set now.

He could tell by the ever so faint slivers of light he caught glimpse of from the corner of his eye; shining through the dirty and cracked pane of the only window in the deep and dank basement-turned-laboratory. From high up in the vaulting of the ceiling on the far side of the room, the sunshine grew and shown down bathing everything on one side of the lab in tones of warm gold and red. Stray dust particles danced in the uneven glimmering rays of orange light like wandering stars floating through a galaxy.

It was quiet.

Aside from the normal sounds of the workshop, accompanied by hurried and heavy scratching from across the room where the engaged being sat hunched over, engrossed in his work. Pen haphazardly scribbling down notes and the occasional doodle or formulal-equation on a yellow notepad situated before him.

But beyond the familiar gentle humming of the various machines and computers throughout the chamber, the faint distant sound of children's laughter could be heard from outside.

For some reason it caused Ford to pause, stilling his hand and busy mind-flow in its tracks. He tried to quickly brush it off and get back to recording the algorithm readings laid out before him, but found it almost impossible to shake the abrupt distraction from his mind.

Six fingers slowly tapped along the nicked and scarred mahogany of the old desk, the other hand grasping the gold pen in his palm so tightly the knuckles turned white. And for the first time in over two hours, the Scientist looked up from his work, gazing up toward the shining multi-colored glass of the high-up window; Its golden and iridescent light reflecting off the thick cracked lenses of his bispectacles.

There it was again.

That now far-off sound of children laughing and playing above ground around the Mystery Shack. Some tourist's kids no doubt, but that simple sound always brought out the deepest memories from within him. Now was no different. Ford breathed in tiredly and held his breath. So many different emotions and images all pulled to the surface of his mind the way shells and bottles washed up on shores.

Sometimes when Ford closed his eyes long enough, he was transported back to his childhood home; His old top bunk bed and the space he shared with Stan. Not a care in the world; one hand halfway in a bag of Jellybeans, the other holding a book about cryptids or Lovecraft. He could vividly remember how their room smelled of old comic books, mothballs and cheap laundry soap.  A weird combination, but somehow strangely comforting.

He could still feel the New Jersey sun on his back, licking his pale skin red; And the scratch of the wet coarse sand of Glass Shard Beach between all twelve toes. Feel the cool salted breeze blowing through him as he and his brother sat together, just the two of them on that old swing-set by the shore. listening to the waves, wondering about the future while admiring the sailing ships and setting sun amongst the line where the sea and sky met.

 

And then there were the memories of you.

 

He lucidly would relive the silent and almost mythic way the snow had fallen on the day he had found you. Alone in that cold and lifeless, uncharted and merciless dimension of ice, stone and metal. There had been no clue nor explanation as to why or how you got there.

He could still so clearly imagine you as you were before him when he came upon you- curled up in the freshly fallen snow, the flakes twinkling like diamonds, collecting around your face and eyelashes. And how you looked so peaceful– so _still_ ,  that he could have thought you were sleeping, or _dead_.

It was as beautiful as it was haunting.

He remembered how the color finally came back into your cheeks in the heat and glow of a weak blue and orange fire. One he had hastily started in his rush to revive and palliate you from your freezing state. He lingered on that incandescent feeling that had bloomed inside of him with the sound of the first breath your lungs took; chest slowly rising and falling like the powerful swell of an ocean wave.

The way you breathed so deeply next to him that quiet night as he huddled your body to his giving you warmth.

Giving you _life_.

And most of all, he could remember that very moment you first opened your eyes,  gaze unwavering meeting his – like a wild animal's; so _alert_ , so _awake_ , wide and deep. Looking into him as if you could see every secret he ever held. Every action, every unspoken word he had never said. Everything he was and would ever be.

These days he found himself revisiting this single memory more often than any other. So much that he often dreamed of and relived it on the rare nights a deep sleep came.

For some reason at that very moment, somehow he felt, somehow he _knew_ that you were fated to be a part of him.

 _Doomed_ to be an eternal thread in his calamitous life. Golden and unbreakable.

 

_Pull on a thread and it will fray._

_too much will undo everything you have made._

_So with every stitch you must take care,_

_One mistake and they all become ensnared_

 

_\- The Unraveling song_

 

Ford had always taken it as a metaphor for action and consequence. One wrong move, and you could lose everything.  

He still feared that his mistakes might one day unravel _you_.

 

Ford had long since allowed himself to close his eyes, taking in the memories. But the beeping of his computer quickly brought him back to the present.A quick skimming over the screen to his right confirmed the new readings were finished processing. Slowly, the man sat up from his slumped position; sitting back in his chair and exhaling through his nose.

He placed the end of his pen into his mouth, teeth lightly clamping down on the cool metal as was habit, while his tired blues checked line after line of the data. He was making progress. But not as quickly as he would have liked. He needed to stop letting himself get distracted.

Recently, Ford felt himself faced with sentiments of his life far more often than he cared to be. More than just the people and places, but the decisions he had made, and the consequences of each. How they had put him where he was in time and space– and how they affected those around him. The good and the bad.

All of this seemed to combine and consume him more and more with each day that flew by. Eating out the back of his mind the way a caterpillar hungrily chewed its way through the leaves of a Legume. Bleeding into the free spaces of his time and headspace, distracting him from his work.

In short, there was one simple reason which held a candle to all of this:

He was getting old.

Aware and confronted with the certainty of his own mortality, he became saturated in the thought of how long he had been gone, the things he missed out on and the things he still wanted and _needed_ to do. As the old saying goes,

 _There just isn't enough time in the day_.

And now it felt as though time had run out. As if _every_ day was now too short.

Getting old will do that to you. Make you stubborn. Make you face things and question the life you've lived and the time you have left.

  _ **Time.**_

 If there was one thing he could ever wish for, more time would be it.

 

Ford reached absentmindedly for the coffee mug askew near the edge of the desk, lifting it to his face without taking his eyes off the screen before him. He almost instantly recoiled at the sensation of cold and stale coffee hitting his lips and tongue, grimacing in both displeasure and surprise as he could have sworn he had just made this cup not long ago. He grunted, setting the mug back down and pushing it back toward its original place, wondering just how long he had been down here.

He tapped his pen slowly against the yellow notepad and gazed from the cup to his keyboard wearily, thinking to himself. About the project and tasks at hand mostly, but a bit of everything else too; Deadlines, grocery shopping, Supply runs, Mailing proposals. A laundry list of things he still needed to do that week. Always ever the multi-tasker – mind constantly running, as if gears turning on a nuclear-powered clock.

He glanced back down to the ceramic coffee cup with a tired expression that slowly formed into a fatigued half-smile. It was his favorite mug. The front decorated with a star wearing a tutu and a silly cross-eyed smile on its face; beside it the words “#1 Grunkle” unevenly and messily written in rainbow paint. A Christmas gift, obviously from Mabel. Stan had a matching one somewhere upstairs in the kitchen. Their niece had made sure of this so they knew for sure that they were, as she'd said “both #1 in her book.” 

Bless her.

The thought made Ford think about the twins. He wondered how they were doing. It had been a while since they had all heard from them. Usually You, him, and Stan received a colorful post card or letter from California every few months or so. Each filling the trio in on Mabel and Dipper's lives and how things were going as the year passed by; school, sports, dances, girlfriends, boyfriends, the sorts of things that went on in the exciting life of a 14-year-old.

To be young again, Ford thought with a smirk.

The house almost seemed too quiet with them gone, but it wouldn't be too much longer before they would be back here in Gravity Falls. Only two more months. You, Ford and Stanley had so much planned for them this year; it would all be sure to outdo last Summer's adventures and wildness. He was beyond excited. It would be like they had only been gone for a day.

Ford could hear the cry of Warblers and Larks singing their songs and chirping outside in the distance, and the wind rustling the leaves of the Sycamores and Hemlock trees they all sat in around the Shack. It was hard to believe Summer was nearly here again already.

 

_Summer._

 

That meant nearly an entire 2 years since he had come back to this dimension. Two years year since he had come _home_.

After everything that had happened. Everything they had all been through, Everything _he_ had been through and fought for;

He had survived.

To think, you all had defeated Bill. You had _**saved the world**_ , and by gold you had done it together!

Sometimes it all still seemed like a crazy twisted dream; Or the plot of some fantastical sci-fi thriller. But it _had_ happened, he had _lived_ it and now here he was. Sitting at his old desk in his old home as real as ever. Two years, and yet it sometimes still felt as though everything had transpired only a day before.

Ford still sometimes found himself having the occasional unpleasant flashback or fever dream, or second-guessing himself and his own judgment constantly. Even going so far as to double and triple check himself and the world around him each day he woke up solely to make sure he wasn't asleep and just dreaming all of this up. He had even kept sleep-journals his first few months back – fearing it could all just be another one of Bill's sick and cruel tricks played on his conscience mind.

Toying with him. Tormenting him. A paradox of a living destructive hell.

The flashbacks, the hallucinations, the paranoia. They never seemed to go away. It was the bleeding effect. The remnants of trauma which both bill and the multi-dimensional journeys had inflicted upon him. It threatened to consume him. Haunting him even in the places he felt safest.

He didn't sleep well those days.

He isolated himself. Punished himself. Attempted to stow himself away from you and Stan, fearing that if you came too close, that you too might be poisoned by his madness.

He was a broken man.

 

But you and Stan,

not once did you ever give up on him. You were all three parts to a whole. A completed puzzle.

And despite the aftermath, the shortcomings and many setbacks, With that immense support, reassurance and infinite love he received from the two of you, He found his strength. Found his _clarity_. He was becoming and getting acquainted with himself again. Who he was before Bill. And there were no words in existence for how emancipating and _sublime_ that was for him.

Ford would be the first to admit that he still had a long ways to go, but he had made a huge step forward. The first of many, in fact; all leaps and bounds. And from those first steps and victories, everything eventually slowly yet surely calmed down to a state of which he felt comfortable calling “Normal”. Something he would have never once fantasized of even being a word in his vocabulary.

 

After the twins had left and gone home at the end of that first summer, He and Stanley went to work immediately, traveling for months across the Antarctic all the way down into the Gulf of Mexico searching for Anomalies and the occasional treasure (much to Stan's delight) along the way. And for the first time in a long while, things felt good. There were no worries with the Mystery shack being cared for in the hands of You, Soos and Wendy while the two were away, and Ford felt he was assimilating quite well to the changes he had missed in 30 years and all it had brought to the world.

 He was trying new things, seeing new places, meeting new people.

Making huge strides in his contributions to the scientific world.

However, he was moving too fast.

Foolishly he thought nothing could stop him. He was King of the world! Tsar of the Sails!

 

And then they had hit a snag.

 

Well, more like a nine headed sea monster.

While hunting for an anomaly that had shown up on the radar, He and Stan got caught in a thick and heavy fog that had rolled in quickly. It was near zero visibility but they definitely found what they had been looking for, and as expected the creature had been none too happy that they had sailed their boat directly into its “sensitive” area, going 70 knots at high speed.

In the ensuing skirmish, he was bum rushed by one of the gigantic beast's rogue heads. It knocked the wind out of him before tossing and slamming him into the side of the Stan O' War II like a toy soldier before whipping him overboard into the water. Immediately he knew something was broken, and not just the boat.

After Stan had not only so heroically punched each head in the face, but harpooned the beast through the heart, he fished Ford out of the water and 2 hours later he was in an Icelandic hospital with a broken shoulder and a cracked femur.

Perhaps this was a sign, Ford had thought to himself on their late plane ride back home to the states that night. Though immensely disappointed with the circumstances and with himself, a break might be for the best. Not just to heal and rest up his body, but also his mind.

He still had bad days.

Still had nightmares and occasionally even worse episodes. Stan had told him that he sometimes yelled in his sleep or woke up shouting and swinging his fists. With this, Ford came too the conclusion that he had yet to accept he had not fully recovered from the effects of Weirdmageddon and his time in the multiverse before that. The stress and travel proved too sudden and too overwhelming.

And now this.

Between these two unfortunate things, his injuries and his mental health, he and his brother decided it would be in his best interest to postpone their adventures any further, or at least for a few months until he could heal up and get all his “ducks in a line”so to speak.

So here he was, Back in good ol' Gravity Falls.

Down in the comfortable staleness of his basement passing the time as he healed, by coming up with outrageous technological prototypes and pharmaceuticals for the government and the wealthy. As long as it wasn't dangerous, he would make anything they wanted. He didn't care what it was as long as he got paid. And they always did; Handsomely, in fact. That meant not worrying about bills, more money to fund his own research and not to mention he and Stan's future expeditions. A huge plus. So it all worked out. Or at least that was how _he_ felt about it.

He had been scolded numerous times by both you and Stan, both of you stressing that he needed to rest and give his mental health and body a break during this time at home. But regardless of Hiatus or not, he needed to keep himself and his mind busy. He couldn't just sit around all day in his Underwear watching Cash Wheel and swearing at the TV like his brother.

At the moment he was working feverishly on one such big project. 3 months after the debacle with the Hydra, Ford was healing up nicely but slowly. He had recently returned from a trip to NarwhalsBreath, Canada where he had received a commission to create a powerful anti-aging serum for the biggest Pharmaceutical-Cosmetic company in North America.

But what no one knew was that he was using the Grant money he had received for the project to at the same time fund his research of something much more valuable and powerful than some silly old wrinkle cream. Ford was working to uncover something he had spent most of his years pondering over and trying to solve. One of the biggest mysteries of the multiverse yet.

 

The key to _Immortality_.

 

Strangely enough, the concept seemed to elude most every dimension he had passed through; Only coming upon a few powerful beings once or twice or more who refused to share the secret to their longevity. And he never remained long enough to study them to gain an inkling of how or why. But as always, Ford refused to take “No” for an answer and instead turned to Science. Something that in his opinion, was always on his side.

  _ **30 years.**_

30 long years he had been gone. 30 audacious years that however enlightening, monumental and capricious they had been, he wished he could get back. As said before, if he could wish for one thing, anything at all – it would be for more time. And again as always, Science would come to the rescue. It would be the shooting star to grant this wish and make it come true.

Ford gazed across the other end of the room to where 2 large glass vats filled with thick liquid of different colors, They churned and bubbled briskly, among them several smaller vials and beakers filled with various other substances and chemicals. All were trials for both the anti-aging serum **and** his “pet project”.

In hindsight he realized it probably wasn't wise for him to have both on the same table and so close together, but space in the basement was limited and he often had to make do. He trusted himself to be careful enough to tell them apart, not confuse or mix them. Besides, he was the only one in the lab nowadays with Dipper and Mabel gone home. You were too busy with the shack and house upstairs to really come down as often as you used to, and Stan pretty much kept to himself. So he wasn't really at all too concerned with hazards or accidents aside from his own. Luckily, those were few and far between.

Ford glanced over his shoulder to check readings on a second larger monitor. He read over each before turning back and comparing them with first set alongside yesterday's numbers. He frowned deeply before dropping the notepad back down onto the desk in irritation.

Damn it all. Still no closer to a breakthrough.

The author clicked his pen a few times in frustration before setting it down flat on the desk. Sighing, he reached up to remove his glasses which as always at the end of the day, felt heavy on his face. He brought his other hand up to the bridge of his nose, pinching and rubbing the skin there as he usually did when exhausted or stressed. His six fingers then ran upward through his mess of grays, slowly blinking away the tension and strain his eyes had endured from hours of focusing and skimming over vast, seemingly-endless amounts of data and paperwork.

He had to be doing something wrong. The formula was not working and the molecular patterns were not linking up, no matter how many times he tweaked them or reassembled the compounds.

Ford absolutely hated to admit it but he had hit a wall.

He felt beyond frustrated. At this rate he may have no other choice but to put the “unamed” project on another long hiatus. He would just have to keep running more tests and linking up numbers. That was all he could do, for now. Funds and time were limited and he had other pressing matters that needed to be dealt with. He still had yet to finish the formula for the wrinkle serum and the deadline was drawing nearer by the day. He had spent so much time and energy on his own project that he had neglected what he was _supposed_ to be working on. Thankfully he would be able to get it done quickly, but the looming presence of failures on his own project only served to discourage him more.

Again, as the saying goes,

_**There just isn't enough time in the day.** _

 

Ford's deep train of thought was broken by the sound of monotonous mechanical meowing filling the room. His eyes snapped open and upward to the vintage cat clock hanging crookedly on the wall above his desk; Its eyes and tail tick-tocking back and forth while the chiming clock on its belly read 8:00pm.

Was it really that late already?

He narrowed his eyes at the awful racket it made, making a mental note for himself for the hundredth time to find the step-latter and take it down at some point soon. Oddly enough, Ford couldn't remember hanging the thing up in the first place and for the life of him didn't know why he'd let it stay up there this long. He was honestly amazed that it still worked after all these years, as it was a hand-me-down of the 50's from his Mother. God rest her gaudy soul.

The chair squeaked whilst he pushed himself back from the desk until there was just enough space for him to stretch out his long legs and knees; both now stiff from sitting in the same position for so long.

Deciding it was time for a break, he abruptly swiveled to the right and stood up; leaving his various notes and pages of research strewn chaotically across the desk. He just couldn't seem to focus on his work now for some reason. Perhaps a walk around the grounds and a quick bite to eat could do him some good and clear his mind. He was beginning to get hungry anyways and wondered idly what you were making for dinner tonight.

The portal-Master took a moment to stretch out his limbs, raising his arms out above his head and wincing at the slight pain in his left shoulder. He slowly lowered them back down, groaning as his joints and bones gave a few pops and clicks here and there decompressing. While he was in good shape and felt great, amazing even for a man swimming in his 60's, he admitted that he certainly wasn't as young as he used to be.

He slipped his glasses back onto his face and grabbed his coat off the back of his chair, swiftly crossing the room and putting it on at the same time. He then shut off the light on his way out, making sure to grab his car keys off the wall (in case he wanted to take an evening drive after dinner), then made his way around the corner and upward toward the awaiting elevator.

As he walked the path toward it, the smell of stewing beef and caramelized onions reached his nose. It made him realize just how hungry he was; his stomach giving a faint growl as he stepped inside the elevator shaft and pushed the coded porcelain buttons to close the door. Then came the sound of the safety gates clanging together in place loudly as they closed, locking magnetically into place. The overhead bulbs flickered on, lighting up one by one; and after a short moment the entire elevator began to shift and rise; lifting upwards at a slow pace. While Ford patiently stood in the center, he glanced upwards at the indicator arrow dinging every other moment as the elevator went higher. With each second that passed by, the smell of food grew stronger, filling his senses and further alighting his anticipation.

Not just for the impending and welcomed hot meal, but at getting to see you after such a long work day.

Ford imagined you working away in the house and shack upstairs above, running this way and that, flitting from room to room as you toiled over everything– graceful yet clumsy in the way that only you could be. For the first time in days, a true full smile spread across his tired and weathered face.

You always did so much for everyone. But for the family especially. Ford admittedly felt bad these days as you seemed to be doing much more housework and monster-hunting for the mystery shack than research and anomaly work with him. That seemed _off_ considering you _were_ his protegee and assistant. But you weren't given the opportunity to do much “assisting” nowadays as a result of the other duties you'd taken on. In the more recent months you had become more like:

A **Chef** cooking and preparing nearly all the meals for the house, breakfast lunch AND dinner + Snacks in between. Even most of the grocery shopping.

A **Nurse** \- Bruises, Burns, Bites, Bangs, Werewolfism or the common cold, you were always there to tend to any injuries that arose from all their misadventures.

A **M** **aid** : Whether one of his experiments went explosively wrong or Gompers got loose in the house somehow, you were there to clean it up. And did all the laundry no matter how atrocious. (And boy, could it get bad.)

A **Secretary** : You kept track of all his proposals, patents, project requests, calendar, calls and emails. You had even revised and organized the Mystery shack's finances.

A **Diplomat** : For those rare occasions like when he and Stan argued over whether to watch Ducktective or Star Quest, fought over the TV remote, or who got the last meatball at dinner.

But above all else and at the end of the day you were something much more precious and important to them all. You were a member of the family.

A saint. A protector. A friend.

A _lover._

 

Ford knew he did not admit it enough and he should, but he was beyond words and feelings grateful and joyous to have you back again. He didn't think he would have been able to handle it if you had been lost to Bill Cipher and that cursed hole in the sky; lost to the darkness and to a despond dimension he could never reach.

He didn't even want to imagine it.

It wasn't until they were faced with the prospect of something worse than death did he himself find the courage to make his feelings known. Unsurprisingly, he discovered that Stan had felt the same way about you. He couldn't really blame him after all. You were amazing. Wonderful in every way.

_Captivating._

So of course it had been a neck-and-neck match between them both for your affections. It went on for months until they finally came to a sort of Cold War stalemate; A reluctant cease-fire agreement, which somehow ended up into whatever it was you all had going now. And the part of all this that surprised him the most about having to share you was that it didn't feel “weird” at all. It felt _right_.

Just the three of you together, your own little world filled with love and laughs, goodnight kisses and Good morning hugs, indoor plants and picnics, decorating the tree together at Christmas, arguing whose turn it was to do the dishes, Staying up way too late to eat popcorn and watch bad movies as the three of you sat on the couch, both twin's arms resting behind your head.

Or your favorite: Sleeping in on those infamous Oregon rainy days The rare occurrence when all three of you would end up into the same bed, entangled in each other; both twins on either side of you, arms slung around your shoulder and wrapped around your waist while you snuggled between them.

Ford often still felt the heat of diffidence seep into his ears wondering just how it came to be like this. So second-natured. Even blissful. Dare he say, _normal_.

For the very first time in his life, Ford felt rooted. Stable. Settled.

  _Happy._

And it would have never been this way without you. He could not imagine life any other way. For that he always wished he could give you the universe. But even then he would always feel as though that would never be enough, not even close. Like comparing a grain of sand to an entire beach, A drop of water to every ocean, a single star to the entire sky, one dimension to the entire multiverse.

He felt he like saying “thank you” a thousand times every day. He could try But again, as we know the saying goes:

  _There just isn't enough time in the day._

 

The elevator gave a soft “Ding” as it reached the ground floor. Doors slowly opening up to the sloped dimly lit path leading up behind the vending machine. All his life he seemed to always know just what to say in any situation. He was articulate and sure. Poised and confident. Every thought carefully formed before being spoken.

 But with you, He often felt all of that come undone. He just never could seem to find the right words to tell you just how grateful he was for you. How much you mean to him. And to be honest, he didn't know if he ever would. But he could still try. And he planned to do just that every day until he did.

In fact he thinks he will do so right now.

Because he wasn't going to waste a single chance he got.

After all,

 Time waits for no one.

 

 

 

 

                          

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright! There you have it! The first full chapter.
> 
> To clear up any confusion, the Story for the first 3 chapters is written from Ford's point of view with a partial third-person perspective. I felt this worked best to convey and establish history as well as revisit and recap what the Pines Family has been up to as well as the state of things and progression post-Weirdmageddon. 
> 
> I am hoping to post a couple chapters a month if I can, I am eager to get to the Reader view point of things and the story progression. For everyone that's already left comments and Kudos, and (wow!) Even bookmarks! Thank you all so much for reading. I'm super happy to see people picking up my work!
> 
> EDIT: Okay SO. #1  
> CQ made a comment about me writing in Ford having 12 toes. YES we are not sure if Ford has six toes on each foot in addition to 6 fingers on each hand. This is something that has not really been explored, talked about by the fandom much nor confirmed by A. Hirsch. However, reading up on hexadactyly, it seems that for a majority of cases, infants born with this condition tend to have extra digits on both their hands AND their feet. So I say its safe to assume that YES ford has 24 digits.
> 
> #2 Yes, Stan was put on the NO-FLY list for airplane travel while impersonating Stanford over the years due to his extensive list of felonies and national security charges. However, I've come to theorize that both he and Ford would make full use of private aerospace and jet transportation through mcGucket's resources (considering he is a multimillion-dollar module in technological advances as well as the mechanical and American patent inventors pool).   
>  Also, Ford is making huge stride and advances in the scientific and medical community. The government commissions him for his work so I'm sure they were able to resolve this issue quickly.


	3. Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time and distance, Happiness and Sorrows.

         

 

 

 

 Stepping out from behind the vending machine, Ford glanced around the gift shop quietly.

It was silent, not a person around as he expected. The Mystery shack usually closed its doors around 7:30pm on the dot during the high season. This left him free to come and go from the basement as he pleased after hours without care of some tourist getting nosy. But as expected, rumors had already begun to fly around town this past year of him being some kind of mad scientist and the Shack being a front for some “crazy government Frankenstein experiments” as the Gravity Falls Gossiper so fondly put it.

Well, they weren't half wrong, _in a way_.

 The sun had just barely gone down and through the windows, the last of its fading oranges and reds could be seen disappearing behind the mountains. In its place the moon was taking its rise, leaving the room dim with its pale yellow glow in the sky's fading blue light. It was sundered only by the faint lumen from the cracked living room door.

Dusk. This was his favorite time of the day. The stillness brought him peace. He loved the way the soft light illuminated and bounced off of everything in the room; The knickknacks, Snow-globes, crystals and taxidermy skulls. It was almost mystical – making the shop look like some sort of magician's atelier.

Maybe it was just his introverted nature, but moments like these brought him true solace. And there was something so calming and even surreal about being alone in a place that was usually busy and bustling with crowds of people. The man took a deep breath in, exhaling slowly with a content sigh and turning to walk toward the living room.

He had a strong feeling that it was going to be a good night.

And just as he was having this thought, his leg became awkwardly caught on something before he lost all balance and went tumbling forward in a clatter.

 

“OW!” Ford grunted, face making contact with the old floorboards.

Once finding his bearings, he scrambled to sit up; rubbing the side of his cheek and whipping his head back to see what it was he had tripped on.

“Baaaaaaa-”

The scientist found himself eye-to-eye with a pair of rectangular pupils and uneven horns.

“Gompers?!” he sputtered, thick eyebrows furrowing together.

The creature only blinked and bleated at him once more; twirling its tail and turning back to its impromptu meal of discarded Mystery shack pamphlets and a half eaten sandwich from a wastebasket it had tipped over.

“Who let the goat in the house again?!” Ford called out in annoyance, pushing himself up off the ground and dusting himself off. A light tugging on his slacks made him look down to see Gompers now going to town chewing on his pant leg.

“No! Bad Goat!”

He pulled the bunched material from it's mouth before gently swatting and shooing the animal away. He gave a wry expression at the large wet spot left behind before wiping his hand on his coat and looking around.

Where _was_ everyone?

It was unusually quiet for a Friday night. By now he'd at least expected to run into you, Soos or Stan.

He would probably have better luck finding everyone inside the house, he thought; turning his heel to make his way toward the living room door. But as luck would have it, he was all of a sudden blindsided with said door flying open right in his face. The heavy force sent him tumbling right back down to the spot he had just been splayed out on. His glasses flew off of his face this time as he hit the ground with an ungraceful and undignified _“OOF!”_

“ **OW!** ” He repeated for the second time that night.

Between his quiet curses and rubbing of his face and shoulder, he looked up to see a familiar bulky form in a fez peeking from around the large door curiously.

 “Ah geez! You okay Sixer?!” Came a gruff voice from above him.

 

“Stanley, can't you be more careful!?” Ford scolded from his seat on the floor. He grabbed for his glasses, inspecting them for damage before sliding the frames back onto his face angrily.

“Sorry, I didn't know you were there!”

The other man came from around the door to stand in front of his downed sibling, outstretching his hand. Ford haphazardly took it and with a good heave, Stan helped pull him back up to his feet.

 “What were you doing behind the door?” Stanley raised an eyebrow at his twin. The tassel of his fez swung around slightly as he tilted his head to the side.

Ford paused from dusting himself off again, eyes going wide. 

“I uh..” His ears grew red recalling the fall he'd had tripping over Gompers only moments before.

He could already hear Stan's roaring laughter now, lasting for days on end as he imagined the scene of Ford tripping over a farm animal and biffing it on the floor. It would be like high school all over again and he'd rather not endure that right now.

He cleared his throat quickly.

 “Ahem. That's not important right now. The goat is back inside again.” he peeled his eyes and broadly gestured with a thumb toward the far side of the room where Gompers was now busy chewing on a once-neatly folded stack of Children's Mystery Shack T-shirts.

 “Hey! HEY!” Stan shouted, stomping his way over to the animal. “You drop that right now!” 

He grabbed the end of the yellow novelty shirt in the creature's mouth and tugged hard. However, the Goat stubbornly refused to let go, Hooves driving into the cheap Persian rug and teeth clamping down harder than before on the flimsy cotton material. A cantankerous tug-of-war soon broke out between the two. But after another angry exchange of bleats and profanities directed at her species, the sound of tearing suddenly filled the room signaling Gompers had won the war; running off towards the door with a sleeve still in her mouth. Stan nearly falling backwards with the severance, glared down at the damaged shirt in his hands before back up to Gompers. He growled.

“Outside NOW!” Stan ran after her, prompting the animal to make a loud noise of alarm, dropping the sleeve before pushing her horns against the ajar door and making a break for it outside. “Go on! Get 'outta here you little one-horned jerk!” he huffed, shaking his fist after the creature as she scurried away.

He then closed the door loudly behind him, the hanging door bells jingling with the force. He locked it and turned around, picking up the severed chewed-up sleeve and looking over it. He grumbled under his breath before walking back over to collect the rest of the shirt. Bending down to pick it up, Stan glanced over both pieces before sighing disappointingly. “Not gonna be selling this anytime soon.” He made his way back over to the shop front and picked up the fallen trashcan before dropping the entire shirt in with a frown.

“Well, that's what happens when you carelessly leave a door open all day. Your house becomes a barn.” Ford said condescendingly while raising his eyebrows and holding his hand out in the door's direction. Stan turned to look back at him and furrowed his own brow line.

“Hey, I am _not_ about to turn the AC on in April. I don't care if its 'an unusually hot year' or 'Global Warming'-” Stan made quotations in the air with his fingers while rolling his eyes. “No way are we running up the electric bill just so some lousy no good tight-pursed tourist can be 'Comfortable'!”

“Are you being serious?” Ford narrowed his eyes at his brother, dumbfounded and in disbelief.

 “You bet your sweet test tubes I am. A breeze doesn't cost _anything_. And besides, I'm not the _genius_ that designed a room with windows that don't even open.” He crossed his arms and glared at his scientist brother who held an identical expression on his face.

“THIS ROOM ISN'T EVEN MEANT FOR--”

Ford began with a raised a finger and the intent to retort such ridiculous (yet half-logical) claims; but deciding he was too tired to argue, the rest of the words ran out of steam before he could properly get them out. The researcher instead gave a heavy sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose under his glasses in irritation; His other hand raised in a halting motion.

 “Stanley, I'm exhausted. Its too late in the day for this. Let's just argue about it tomorrow.”

“Fine by me. Name a time and place.” Stan Snorted, straightening his Fez back up with both hands.

 

Ford half-rolled his eyes. “Where were you off to in such a hurry, anyway?” the physicist continued, looking down at his watch and tinkering with its buttons. He pushed a few on its face and the vending machine door began to slowly haul to a close on its own; It's hydraulics giving a few hisses and a creak before it shut completely.

“I was on my way to get _you,_ Pointdexter.” Stan crossed his arms again and leaned boredly against the sales counter. “I was told to tell you that dinner is almost ready.”

“Oh...” Ford said quietly, looking up with surprised eyes. He blinked. “Thank you.”

“Meh. Don't get the wrong idea. Apparently I'm not allowed to eat until everyone is at the table because (Y/n) says its 'good manners'.” he rolled his eyes to the side, the end of his sentence coming out in a mocking tone.

 Ford let out a small chuckle at his brother's antics, adjusting his glasses on his nose. “Y'know, you never did have good table manners as a kid, Stan. Admit it, you haven't changed a bit since then.” He gave his brother a weak playful punch in the arm.

 “Never!” Stan returned the punch, joining his twin in a lighthearted laugh. His stubborn expression now replaced with a grin.

 

Ford's stomach gave another faint growl, this one much stronger than the last. The aroma of yeasty home-baked bread now joined that of seasoned meat, Garlic, Onions and Potatoes. Together the smells blended wonderfully, wafting from the kitchen and throughout the shop. It made his mouth water. He sighed and tilted his head back, taking a deep whiff and inhaling through his nose. A relaxed and content look spread across his face as he sniffed the air.

 “That smells a lot like the soup Mom used to make when we were kids.” he remarked with a warm smile, taking it in and closing his eyes nostalgically.

 “Yeah well, that's because it is.” Stan smiled slyly, walking past his brother and toward the living room.

 “Wait, what?” Ford questioned, opening his eyes. Confused, he glanced back at his brother who in return only motioned for him to follow.

 “Its kind of a long story.” Stan walked and talked, pulling open the living room door and passing through quickly. “I was cleaning out the storage room a couple of weeks ago to make room for last season's attractions, when I found this big box of Ma's old stuff.” He held the door open for his brother who followed closely behind while listening intently.

 “There were all kinds of things in there. You wouldn't believe some of the stuff she kept! I even found some of our old trophies from grade school.”

“Wow. Really?” Stanford chuckled, raising his eyebrows. Their mother had always loved showing off any and all accomplishments they made, big or small to the point of it being embarrassing at times.

 Stan grinned and nodded.

 “Anyway, while I was digging around, I found her family recipe book and I gave it to (Y/n). She's been dabbling with some of our old family favorites all week. And I gotta say, she's gettin' pretty good at it too. I can vouch for that!” Stan gave a hearty chuckle while pausing to pat his belly, comically driving home his point.

“I'm not surprised either. She's been studying that thing like a Torah.” he smirked.

 

“That's amazing.” Ford smiled gently, expression softening and eyes beaming excitedly from behind his cracked lenses.

“Yeah it is.” The other sibling sighed quietly, stopping just outside the kitchen doorway.

 

“Y'know, Looking through all that stuff jogged a lot of memories I'd been missing. After Dad died, Me and Shermie drove back home to clean out the house so it could be sold. They had a lot of stuff, and we ended up throwing away most of what we couldn't sell. So I brought back a few things. I'm really glad that I did.” he paused before rounding the corner and walking into the kitchen.

“Guess I just couldn't throw it _all_ out, ya know? Just too many memories.” Stan trailed off, looking down and sliding his hands into the pockets of his slacks.

A feeling of sadness crept upon Ford with each word that Stan spoke, and like a dying fern, his eager smile had slowly wilted away into a devastated frown.

There were many things Ford regretted in his 60-something years of life. But there wasn't much he regretted more than not taking the time to go back home and visit his parents more often while he'd had the chance. Sure, he had bought them a new house and cars, paid off the mortgage and a majority of their bills with the various grants he'd earned – but money wasn't everything.

He could have been a _better son_.

 Ford felt a deep and heavy feeling swell within his chest. It made the oxygen stick to his lungs like cement; His stomach turn much like it had each time he jumped through a swirling portal. He swallowed hard, averting his gaze to across the room. He stared idly at the antique vase on the table, it's once lush and beautiful vibrant bouquet of Foxgloves, Impatiens and Daisies were now wilting and morose; drooping over the edges in the way birds laid their heads down to die when they became old or sick.

He thought back to all the time with his family he had taken for granted.

Every Christmas, every Passover, Every birthday – he'd go home for each but never stayed for more than a couple of hours. Always in a rush to leave, Itching and _aching_ to get back home to the comforting solitude and seclusion of his dark and lonely lab.

 

“ _Just another hour Stanford! It feels like you just got here! We've missed you so much! You don't really have to leave already, do you?”_

His mother would beg him.

 

But by the time she had given her plea, he had already muttered out some sorry half-assed excuse; hastily grabbed his keys and kissed her perfumed cheek with a rushed goodbye as he headed out the door.

Back to Gravity Falls he would go. Away from all the memories. Away from all reminders. Glass Shard Beach would forever be haunted for him after the fallout with his brother. The gleaming shores and rugged streets would never be the same.

So onward to Oregon it was, rain, sleet or snow – to his bubble of solace and security that he'd built for himself. Eagerly he looked forward to reunion with every invention, every experiment and above all, the Portal. The enigma he'd devoted all of himself, his waking hours and all his sanity to. Back to being busy, working like a machine; Clockwork 365.

Eventually he'd stopped going back home to New Jersey altogether, his scarce visits replaced with even scarcer phone calls which he would make only just a few times a year. It was as if he was a stranger, and eventually he became one.

They weren't perfect, incredibly far from it – but he still loved his parents dearly. How he wished he could go back and do differently by them. He thought about it every day.

Ford knew Stan had his own regrets haunting him too. His troubled teenage years, falling out with their Father, and ruining his brother's academic and natural life being the pinnacles. But amongst every taste of life's bitterness that came along over the years, there was one thing he knew ate away at Stanley the most:

Missing their Mother's funeral due to his stint in Columbia.

He never quite got over that.

Time is precious. Time is fragile.

 

_Time waits for no one._

 

Stanley leaned against the kitchen counter, looking back up to meet his brother's hollowed gaze sadly. He still so tightly held onto the remorse of 30 years ago; pushing him into that portal and robbing him of his future, what time he'd had left with their family, _everything_ – even his name.

Ford did the same, holding onto his own regrets both with his brother's absconded memories and for bringing that cursed gate to Hell to life in the first place; endangering everyone and everything they knew and loved.

Their guilt was shared. Their grief consolidated. It was a mutual pain that hung between them like a tarnished silver cord forever constricting and connecting their scarred and bruised hearts.

 

“Well...” Ford began weakly. “I guess that explains that _infernal_ tacky Cat Clock down in the lab.” he chuckled, attempting to lighten up the incredibly gloom and heavy mood that had settled in the room like a dark cloud.

Stan cracked a smile. “I hate that stupid thing! I don't even know why I hung it up. It sounds like a dying sea lion!”

“I can't believe Mom actually thought it was cute!” Ford added. They both laughed like they did when they were boys, grins growing at their shared antics.

After their laughter had died down, Ford sighed leaning back in his chair. “Things really have changed, haven't they?” He looked wistfully to the wall where family photos hung together side by side.

“Yeah.” Stan exhaled in a hushed breath. “You can say that again.” He joined his twin in looking up at the wall decorated in memories.

Displayed there were quaint portraits of his father Philbrick, his Mother Ramona and A young Sherman Pines fresh out of the Army. In the middle a faded family photo from when he and Stan were just kids and beside that, one they had taken last summer with the twins, Soos, you and Wendy at the Lake. Beneath all of them hung the newest and biggest addition to the wall. A beautiful rose gold-framed Photo of He and Stan with you right between the two of them, smiling lovingly as always with both arms daintily linked around their own.

Ford felt his face flush with pride and fondness as his eyes befell you. Never in your wildest imaginations or dreams would any of you have thought life would turn out like _this_. It was hopelessly beautiful. Dare he say, bliss.

He turned back to Stan who by the looks of it seemed to be experiencing the same.

 

“Where is she, anyways?” Ford Smiled, glancing around the empty kitchen as if searching for you.

“Beats me. She was here when I left to grab you.” Stanley shrugged. “She'd mentioned getting laundry together from upstairs, but I figured that meant after dinner.”

 

Ford hummed and pushed himself up from the chair, walking across the room and toward the stove. His eyes lit up upon seeing the feast laid out across the stove and counter top. A mountain of soft, warm and golden fresh-baked yeasty rolls, a pyramid of beautiful steaming glazed carrots, A towering bowl of fluffy creamed potatoes and the star of the show: Pines Family Famous Beef soup. It gently bubbled on the stove top, halves of tender red potato and great big hunks of juicy braised beef simmered in the rich and earthy hot broth.

It all looked especially good to him after having gone the entire day down in the lab without a proper meal. His stomach gave another embarrassingly loud growl and this time Ford thought it might just start eating itself.

“Heh heh. Yeah, me too.” Stan laughed having heard it this time, walking up beside him.

Ford sniffed the air gently. Another familiar and sweet aroma joined the others, prompting him to look around for its source. Beside him the old oven radiated heat, warming his legs through his work-pants cozily. He leaned down slightly to peer curiously through the glass of the door and a smile appeared on his face seeing what was baking inside. Banana Cinnamon Walnut cupcakes. Their favorite.

 

“Wow, She really outdid herself.” Ford remarked, swallowing hard. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Stan's hand reaching across the counter for a Roll. 

 “What are you doing?” He raised an eyebrow, standing back up and looking over at him suspiciously.

 Stan froze, hand hovering inches over the plate of buttery bread. “What's it look like genius? I'm starvin'!” He grabbed for a roll.

 Ford narrowed his eyes, sliding the plate safely away from his brother's grasp.

 “Hey! What's the big idea?!” Stan barked.

“Stanley, that's rude. Can't you at least wait until we're all accounted for? We haven't even set the table yet.” Ford scolded.

 “For Pete's sake, its just a roll! I'm sure (Y/n) will be back down any minute now, if that's what you mean by 'accounted for'.” Stan rolled his eyes.

 “Exactly. All the more reason for you to wait.”

 “Oh come on! I need something to hold me over until then! Pranking works up the appetite!” Stan patted his belly like it was an empty oil tank.

 “Pranking?” Ford cocked his head to the side.

 “What, do you live under a rock or somethin'? Its April Fools Day! The best day of the year next to Summerween and the Fourth of July.” The other twin waved his hand eccentrically. “Its all pranks all day! A caramel-covered onion here, a whoopie cushion there. I come up with somethin' new every year! Those tourist never know what hit 'em! Its hilarious!”

 “That all seems a bit childish, don't you think?” Ford remarked, raising an eyebrow.

 “That's the beauty of it! Its an equal-opportunity holiday because anyone is a potential victim! Babies, Kids, adults, family; Its an absolute free-for-all!” The Man of Mystery stated proudly with a toothy grin.

 Ford now rolled his own eyes. He'd always thought the holiday to be asinine and usually disapproved of such shenanigans as pranks and tricks; Though it had always been Stan's favorite day of the year, so perhaps he should be a little more lenient about it. Since the Stan-of-War II had been waylaid, Ford noticed his brother was having just as much a difficult time as he was keeping himself busy. Apparently retirement wasn't all it was cracked up to be.

Between Soos running most of the tours in the shack and you taking charge of the gift shop, it left Stan with little to do aside from watching daytime television and if he was lucky, the occasional weekend tour when Soos was off on the weekends. When he wasn't dabbling with that, he could be found 'round back slowly but surely working on repairs to their mangled boat. Ford hadn't been the only casualty of the trip. The Stan O' War II had taken on so much damage it had nearly been totaled. After seeing it for the first time, Ford was shocked they had made it back to dry land before sinking.

 He shook his head at Stan, walking across the kitchen to the refrigerator.

 “As long as you aren't hurting anyone, I guess its fine.” He grumbled, reaching for the handle “Whatever you do, Just leave me out of it! I want no part in--”

  **POP!!!**

“AHHH!”

Startled, Ford nearly jumped out of his boots but caught himself before falling. A blank perplexed look of equal parts confusion and annoyance slowly sank onto his face as a shower of sparkling colorful ribbons and confetti snowed down upon his head and shoulders.

 So much for leniency.

 

“STANLEY!!!” Ford yelled, bits of confetti now littering his hair and dangling from his ears.

 Immediately Stan began to cackle. It quickly grew into a belly-aching guffaw when Ford turned to face him, doubling over and grabbing at his sides.

 “Oh ' _HA HA_ ' very funny!” Ford glared at him, now looking like a human party popper.

 

“Isn't it great?” Stan chortled, walking over to him. “I rigged the fridge with a confetti gun! Genius, I know!”

Ford looked half-ready to deck him. “No it is not! You nearly gave me a heart attack, you knucklehead!” he snapped, angrily brushing the confetti off of himself.

“Lighten up Sixer, it was a joke!” Stan scoffed “Oh sorry, I forgot. You're Sen-si-tiiiive!” he put an emphasis on the last word, batting his eyelashes mockingly.

 “What are you, 12?!” Ford narrowed his eyes.

 “I know you are but what am I?”

 Oh great, Ford thought. The infinite loop of “I know you are”; Ultimate comeback of sibling fights everywhere and Ford's one and only true weakness.

 “Now you're just acting childish!” The scientist placed his hands on his hips.

 “I know you are but what am I?”

 “We're a little too old for this now, don't you think?”

 "I know you are but what am I?”

 “Okay, that's just--”

 “I KNOW YOU ARE BUT WHAT AM I?”

 “UGH!” Ford threw his hands up in annoyance. He turned and stomped back toward the living room.

 

“Hey where do you think you're goin'? I'm not through annoying you yet!” Stan called after him with a laugh.

 “I'm going to find (Y/n) so we can eat! My blood sugar is too low for this.” he rubbed his forehead roughly. “Stay here and act like an imbecile all you want, but at least make yourself useful and set the table!” he pointed back at Stanley.

 “Fine, then I will!” Stan retorted from the kitchen, crossing his arms.

 “Fine!” Ford shouted back, now climbing the stairs.

“And don't touch anything until we get back! We eat together as a _family_ **not** in units!”

 “Well then hurry it up! I'm wastin' away here!” Stan grunted, eyeing the soup on the stove wearily before making his way toward the dish cabinet.

 

Ford Sighed loudly and rolled his eyes; climbing the stairs in earnest now. One hand gripped the rail while the other pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. He was over-the-moon happy to have his brother back but honestly- some days it was like they were 10 all over again.

He winced at the slight pain in his left thigh climbing the last few steps. The crack in his femur had yet to completely heal; probably only 80% he presumed, rubbing the area gingerly upon reaching the top of the staircase. It had been quite a while since he had done a check-up on himself, and even longer since he had been in this part of the house. He quickly brushed it off as he did most of his aches and pains, making a brief mental note to take an X-ray once back down in the lab. The project had been taking top priority over much if not most of his time. In hindsight, he realized he had been neglecting a lot of important things in sake of the endeavor but in the end he hoped it will all have been worth it. There would be plenty of time to deal with his own health later.

For now he was more interested in finding you. The quicker he did, the sooner you could all sit down to a (hopefully) pleasant dinner.And maybe, _just maybe_ you could whip some manners into his brother. He smiled at the thought of you chasing Stan around the kitchen with a Spatula.

As Ford looked up, he was nearly startled by his own reflection staring back at him from the wall. He stared at the antique mirror for a moment before chuckling softly to himself and walking past it. It had been so long since he had been up here that he'd forgotten the old thing was even there. But a moment later his steps came to a slow, eventually halting completely in the middle of the hall. He glanced back over his shoulder in an unsure way before finally backtracking to stand before it once more.

Ford had looked at himself in this mirror many times in his long 60-something years of life. But for some reason in this moment it felt different. As if he were looking at himself for the first time in 30 years.

 Just _when_ had he gotten so _old_?

 He stood there silently gazing at his reflection in the foggy glass as if expecting it to speak back to him at any moment.

He looked like hell. His entire appearance was that of exhaustion with deep dark circles beneath his tired blue eyes and heavy five o'clock shadow from neglecting to shave. There were various stains and holes across the material of his coat and pants, both wrinkled from two nights of sleeping at his desk.

As the scientist looked into his own tired face, he brought a hand up to roam freely over his darkly-stubbled jaw. He cupped it and rubbed the skin there roughly before sliding six fingers upward through his main of ashen brown-greys.

Time was a wondrous and elusive thing. It was amazing and even frightening what 30 years could do to a person.

 

Ford gave a discouraged sigh, letting both hands drop to his sides before moving on down the hallway. At least the day was over and he'd get see you now. No matter how long or terrible his day was, You were always there waiting for him at the end of it with a warm hug and that smile he loved so very much. It recharged his battery and kept him going.

As he rounded the corner he came to a slow, stopping just a few feet from the Twin's room. Slowly, a smile bloomed upon his weathered face.

That feeling of indescribable warmth grew from his chest like a rosebush and vines of fondness threatened to consume him whole.

 

 _There you were_.

 

 

 

 

 

                   

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To all that are following this piece, I just want to apologize for the updates being so slow. My goal is to add a chapter 1-2 times a month. At the moment I do not have internet at my place so its a bit tricky to do so. I usually update while I am at SQ's house or when I visit my brother. So bear with me! 
> 
> Poor Ford and Stan. I really just wanna give them both a great big hug. :(
> 
> The Next chapter will finally begin telling the story in earnest from Reader's point of view, so I'm excited to get the ball rolling! Thank you for everyone that continues to leave Kudos and comments. It really bumps up my moral!  
> See you in the next chapter!
> 
> -CC
> 
> EDIT: Okay so Starlie_Quinn literally just screamed/ cried at me for cutting this chapter off where I did. xD  
> lol I promise I'll hurry and finish up Chapter 4!!!! *flail*


	4. Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You find happiness in memories of the past.  
> Ford finally musters the courage to talk to about the future.

               

 

 

 

Night time.

Darkness and solace.

This was your time. Your space. Your realm. 

It was the time when everything was quiet and calm. You could think about the things that excited, enchanted or worried you all in peace.

In this moment, the house felt so very still. Yet the sound of crickets from outside was almost deafening through the open window. Their song echoed off of the wooden floors and lonesome halls of the attic. A gentle and cool evening breeze flows in with it, catching loose wisps of your colored hair and settling softly over your shoulders.

You took in a deep breath, stretching out your arms and inhaling the biggest lungfuls of crisp and earthy night air you could manage. With a slight shiver you opened your eyes looking upon the barren room before you. Holding yourself up against the doorway, you quietly let go of the breath you've been holding at it comes out as a sigh.

It was so very hard to believe it was almost summer again.  Just where had the days gone?

It seemed like only yesterday you had taken the holiday tree down and popped bottles of champagne with Ford and Stan for the new year; the pair sandwiching your face with kisses to your cheeks as the clock struck twelve.  The forests around you had then been cold and quiet with winter, sleeping under a soft blanket of powdery snow.

Now that snow and ice had long since melted away, replaced by ever-blooms of plants and flowers carpeting the woods and rural roadways with light and dark greens.  Everything was vibrant and pollinating. The bugs and animals lively and loud. The trails, trees and bushes were bustling with life and movement. The Forest was alive once more.

Soon the sunflowers would be blossoming and the cicadas would once again come fill the trees with their incessant buzzing songs. Vibrating and shedding their golden skins on the branches of the peach, pecan and cherry trees of the yard.

All of this meant more than just the return of Mother summer. It meant the house would soon be filled with warmth again–both from the summer sun and the laughter of a happy family.

 _Your_ family.

 

Clutching the weathered door frame a little tighter, you relaxed your full weight against it; leaning your head into the cool, nicked and grazed wood there. Your eyes moved about the room wearily taking in its emptiness.

No matter what it was you were doing–housework, cleaning or even just putting something away–each time you came up here, walked these halls and passed by this room, the feelings that overcame you were always the same.  You weren't really too sure how to put it into clear words. But it was a longing wistfulness that grew inside your ribcage like wild hydrangeas.

That as if at any moment you would hear Mabel's voice from the corner of the room pleading you to join her in one of her odd but charming projects like bedazzling Soos' toolbox or glitterfying Stan's taxidermy collection.

You could almost feel the old floor creak from Dipper's footsteps as he eagerly followed after you around the house. When he wasn't with Ford, he was usually at your side or in your shadow, always close by; journal in hand as he asked 100 questions at 100 miles an hour.

You were even used to Waddles following you around; quietly oinking while he stayed close behind wherever you went, his little hooves clopping on the aging hard-wooden floors. You missed the way he would come trotting up while you were hanging the laundry out to dry or doing paperwork in Stan's office. His curly little tail would wag so fast as he waited expectantly yet patiently for that little scratch behind the ear he knew you always had waiting for him.

These were some of the happiest memories of your life. And for once, you finally felt stable and whole. It was real and something you could hold onto.  Just you, the boys and the kids. It always felt as though it could last forever like that.

An _Eternal Summer._

 

But as all good things did, summer would always eventually come to an end and those blissful warm days would fade into autumn yellows and reds. Before you knew it, it was time for the kids to go home. The boys would pack up the truck and the Stan-O-War II shortly there after and be off for the hunt leaving you by yourself to watch over the house and help manage the shack for the rest of the season.

It wasn't all bad of course. There were little rays of sunshine through the clouds here and there. You found ways to keep yourself busy and Soos and Melody were always fun to be around. You had even started your first semester of classes at the local university this year. Things were looking up.

But despite all this, without your family surrounding you it was difficult to enjoy the good days and your achievements.  The loneliness would always find its way back, creeping upon you.

Much of the time, you found yourself feeling empty as this room.

For now, you were happy to have your boys home, the three of you together again. Even despite the unfortunate circumstances.  You often wondered if it was selfish of you to think that way.

 

“Feels sort of empty, doesn't it?”

A soft and deep voice over your shoulder nearly made you jump out of your skin.

Startled, You gave a small gasp finally noticing the presence behind you. Even so, your shoulders relaxed feeling a familiar warmth so gently envelope you from behind not a second later.

“Ford!” You cried, craning your neck uncomfortably to look back at him.  “You nearly scared the daylights out of me!”

He gave a soft laugh. When he did, you could feel it reverberate through the wideness of his chest pressed against your back.

“Daylights?” he mused. “I'm old and I don't think I've ever heard even my mother use that phrase.” he chuckled.

“Just what are you trying to say?” You flush with a slight pout, narrowing your gaze.

“You're so old-fashioned.” He hugs his arms around your ribs a little tighter and smiling against your ear. “I love it.”

Right away you stuck your tongue out at him, but let him pull you closer. His sturdy warmth felt nice on your chilly bare shoulders and you found yourself snuggling deeper into him without trying.

“I'm sorry for startling you. That wasn't my intention.”  The light scratch of his beard and the way puffs of his warm breath blew over your neck as he spoke made you shiver and brought about gooseflesh along your arms.  He felt it as his hand grazed over your arm tenderly, giving another light chuckle against your ear.

With heat quickly rising to your cheeks, you batted him away. Wriggling from the cozy snugness of his grip, you turned to face him in the arched doorway.

“What are you doing up here anyway?” You tilt your head looking up at him.  “I could have sworn I asked Stan to tell you that dinner was ready.” Your hands now rested on your hips.

“He did,” Ford nodded. “And it all looks amazing. But–” he paused, running a thumb and forefinger along his chin as if pondering something. “I think there may be something missing. In fact, I'm rather sure of it.” he muttered.

“What?” You arch an eyebrow.

A minor feeling of panic manifests itself as you were sure you'd remembered everything in detail right down to the home-baked bread and butter

Again Ford smiled, this time leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek.

“You.”

You can't help the shade of rouge that again rises to your cheeks at his words. You turn your face slightly away hoping to hide it in the shadows of the hallway.

“Oh, yeah...” You laugh nervously rubbing the back of your neck, eyes casting downward to the old floorboards.“I was just finishing up a couple quick chores. You guys can go ahead and eat. I'll catch up.” You blurted without really thinking about it. You nearly cringe realizing how much of a hypocrite you must sound like saying that. Especially after the way you'd routinely preached waiting until everyone was at the table to eat.

“Well, not without you.” Ford smiles warmly.

 

When you do look back up, he is examining you in the quiet, now leaning himself against the door frame lazily. Even hunched like he is, his height still somewhat towers over your own.

 He looked tired. This was the longest interaction the both of you have had in two days and the first chance since then you've gotten to slow down and really look at him like this. His normally buoyant and vibrant dark blue eyes were glossy and red, drooping and lined with dark circles burgeoning beneath them; his jaw peppered heavily with dark gray and white stubble.  

Without much thought you raised a hand up, bringing it to rest warmly on his weary face. He leaned into your touch, eyelids lowering as he watched you silently. Your fingers cradled his jowl and cheek, thumbing over the rough patches there idly.

"Sorry. I haven't had a chance to shave.” Ford remarks sheepishly as your eyes linger along his jaw.  Your gaze flickered back up and you felt yourself nearly grin at his boyishly charming demeanor. You shook your head softly.

“You're fine.” You quietly reassure him with a smile, eyes gravitating up to his.

“Glad you think so.” He smirks cheekily, slowly leaning in for peck on the lips.

You finally let out the laugh you've been holding in, slipping your hand from around his face and over his lips and blocking his sly attempts at obtaining a kiss. His own laugh is partly muffled by your fingers as he kisses them instead, drawing even more giggles from your chest.

As your laughter dies down, he takes hold of your hand, cradling it in his own. Gently, he intertwines all five of your fingers with the six of his and slowly pulls you back into him. His deep eyes gleam down at you from behind the thick fractured lenses of his glasses. You stay like that for a minute, a comfortable moment of quiet settling in the space between the two of you.

“You miss them, don't you?” Ford utters softly, finally breaking the feathered silence. His warm gaze drifts to the empty room behind you for a brief moment before back to your own. Right away your eyes widen taking in his words. Swiftly you pull your hand away and whip around, hiding your embarrassed expression from his knowing look.

“N-No!” You stammer out, but it isn't very convincing.

He muses, slowly sitting up from the doorway. “You know, from what Stan tells me, you've been spending an awful lot of time up here lately.”

You quickly turn your nose up at him.

“I'm simply getting the last of the spring cleaning done.”  You then cross the room in a few quick steps, pausing to pull the sheets off of Mabel's bed before hanging them over the engraved floral headboard.

“Oh?” Ford hums.

“Stan's having the new beds delivered next week and we need to get ready to move these ones out.” You clumsily fold the last piece of linen before tossing it over with the rest in a pile.

“Is that so?” The scientist ponders from behind you.  You can just hear the incredulous smile in his voice, and from the corner of your eye you can even almost catch a glimpse of it on his face.

“Yes!” You huff, resisting the urge to glare.  “Love-God knows we need them. Dipper is _seriously_ growing, and **fast**. I think he sprouted an entire inch last summer!” You mumbled walking over to the other side of the room, grabbing for the broom along the way.

“Are you sure that's the _only_ reason?” Ford presses, folding his arms and slowly walking to the center of the room.

By now you had restlessly begun to sweep beneath Dipper's bed; the strokes of the broom growing louder and more forced with each syllable of Ford's insistent interrogation, sending puffs of dust flying into the air.

“ _That_ and cleaning up the last of their mess! Mabel gets glitter everywhere! Almost a whole year later and I'm **_still_ ** finding it in the floorbo–”

You paused, something catching your eye, peeking out from underneath the tarnished iron bed-frame. Though it was hidden by a mess of paper scraps and dust bunnies, its colors were vibrant and familiar to you.

Setting the broom to the side, you slowly bent down to get a closer look, carefully reaching for the colorful protruding square of fabric. Clutching it in your fingers, you pulled it from beneath the bits of rubbish you had swept up. To your surprise it seemed to be attached to something much bigger. Slowly, your eyes widened realizing what it was.

Mabel's Axolotl doll.

 

“What is it? Did you find something?” Ford asks curiously from the middle of the room.

Quietly, you sat yourself down onto the bare and tattered old mattress, too engrossed in the stuffed animal you held so carefully in your hands to respond, let alone answer a question.

Realizing something was wrong, he made his way over, crossing the remainder of the room in just a few short steps with his long dancer's legs. Though hasty, Ford's actions were gentle and careful. You didn't even notice the shift and dip in the mattress as he sat down beside you on the old bed, box-spring creaking and groaning with tired age beneath the two of you.

 

Your eyes fluttered upward finally hearing your name after the third time it had been called.

“Dear, is everything okay?” Ford asked leaning toward you, eyebrows knitted together in concern.

“Oh?...I'm sorry. I just...” 

You couldn't seem to gather your thoughts, searching for the right word to describe the feeling quickly growing within your chest. You yourself weren't really sure _what_ it was, but it was heavy and aching; like when a branch grew too burdened with fruit in the summer. 

Slowly you took in a deep breath, closing your eyes and exhaling slowly through your nose.

 “This... this is the doll I gave to Mabel for her birthday last summer.” You finally managed to gather the sentence, looking back down to the plush creature in your lap. “When it was time for them to leave home, she couldn't find it. We looked and looked everywhere for it, but–” You paused, shaking your head.

“Oh. I see...” Ford frowned, looking to the stuffed animal in your hands.

“Oh she was so upset.” You sighed, words trailing off in memory as you gently turned the little plush Axolotl over and petted its soft peachy Lilac fur. “To think, it was under our noses this entire time,” your voice grew hushed, as if whispering to sleepy child.

Realizing this had somehow struck a chord with you, Ford watched you silently with a softened gaze; giving you as much time as you needed to process these feelings. At the same time he fought to contain a chuckle and the rise of a charmed smile seeing you like this. He found it so endearing just how much you cared about his niece and nephew. It was almost as if they were your own children. It made him feel something deep inside of him. Something he could not describe. These days he found he felt it often. Maybe it was a sense of family or togetherness. Maybe the closest feeling he would get to feeling like a father or a husband.

After being alone for so long, he often found life to be complicated in the way that he experienced the world in a different way than others. Close relationships could be especially daunting at times.

After another quiet moment, he adjusted his glasses before placing a hand over your own very gently.  

“You know...” he began. “Its okay if you miss them.”

Your eyes glintes like river stones in the dimness as they flickered up from the doll in your hands. Your cheeks glowered and you narrowed your eyebrows.

“I don't! I just–” you tried saving face one last time.

“No, really...” he chuckles, gently draping an arm around your lower back warmly as he speaks. He leans in a little closer and you nearly sigh,  the scent of his sweater engulfing you. “Its okay to miss the people you love,” he said it so quietly, you almost did not hear him over your own breathing and the sounds of the summer night drifting in through the dirty open window.

Defeated, you finally huff looking down back at the doll. You tug at your bottom lip with your teeth.

“Fine. Maybe I do miss them... a little.”  

Ford's smile curls up incredulously.

“OKAY, Maybe I miss them _a lot_.” You peel your eyes at him from the side. 

He gives a deep and honest laugh, the wrinkles of his eyes creasing like leaves and flower petals. You were always captivated even by the little things.

“I could tell.” His tired eyes momentarily lit up with that lively and bright flicker of blue you were so used to.

You roll your eyes, the red now filling your face like a bushel of summer roses. He wears another heartfelt smile.

“It’s okay. I miss them too. Summer is right around the corner. They'll be back before you know it.” His voice was soft and reassuring.  “Only two more months.” He chuckled, leaning back on his elbows leisurely.

“I know.” you breathe a wistful sigh, reaching over to gingerly place the little doll down on the bare bookshelf. “Only two more months,” you echoed him.

But two months felt such a long ways away.

 

Ford hated to see you distressed in any way. But perhaps this was the perfect opportunity he needed to talk to you about what had been on his mind. That _thing_ that had been stewing on his brain for the past few months.

“You know, you'd make a good mother,” he blurted the words out without much reserve and right away regretted it.

Well, that was one way to bring it up.

Your eyes widened and you froze, feeling your ears go hot. Upon seeing your reaction, he caught himself in the awkwardness of his comment and began backpedaling.  
  
“I-If that was something you wanted to do, of course.” He rubbed the back of his neck, looking off in the other direction. Time in the multiverse had left him without much of a filter these days.

“Now you're just being weird,” you snorted after a few seconds more, nudging your shoulder into his playfully laughing it off as you both usually did these kinds of moments. But to your mounting surprise, when you looked up Ford wasn't laughing. In fact, he looked rather serious.

 

“Is... everything alright?” you hesitated, watching him curiously.

For the next few moments, a myriad of expressions crossed the older man's face. It was that look between indecisiveness of whether or not he should say something. You had seen it many times before. He finally broke the silence, clearing his throat.

 “Um... no. It's nothing important,” he chuckled nervously. He then quickly leaned down to give you a swift peck on the lips, smothering any inquisition you would have had further.

And it seemed to work as very quickly the kiss deepened, pouring into a long and sweet warm symphony of lips and tongue that had you melting like chocolate into Ford's arms. You giggled mischievously as he abruptly pulled away to dot a trail of kisses from the corner of your mouth to your earlobe where you were incredibly sensitive.

“Ford!” his name came out of your mouth as a giggle. 

Things very quickly went from coy and playful to hot and heavy for not a moment later, he guided you down to the bare mattress, cradling an arm behind your back for support while the other slid beneath your hip. Letting your head fall back onto the cushioning, you sighed feeling his fingertips wander across you. They smoothed circles over your collarbones and down your shoulder. It both aroused and relaxed you. They moved down further, caressing your side and smoothing down the curve of where your thigh met your bottom. While his hands kept busy he nibbled your neck, his heated breath coming out in slow deep huffs behind your ear.

 “D-dinner is going to get cold...” You barely manage out the half-hearted excuse in between obviously excited breaths. Whether you were trying to convince Ford or yourself, you weren't sure.

He paused for a moment, remaining still and hanging over you. He smiled lazily. The corner of his mouth curved upwards almost slyly while he looked over you slowly with his half-lidded blues, seemingly appreciating you and enjoying this moment. As if asking if you were indeed up for this, he raised an inquiring eyebrow playfully at you.

Wrapping your arms around his strong neck gently, you pulled yourself upward to plant a permissive kiss on his lips.

You felt like a teenager again.

Without a word, he shrugs his wide shoulders from his ragged tan coat and right away you can feel the heat of his skin seeping from beneath the loose red knit of his sweater. He too is breathing harder now; you can hear it in each breath, see it in his chest rising and falling in a strong but controlled rhythm. At first glance he would seem cool and collected but beneath that you could see his mind racing in a circle like a sundial. And the air was so quiet now you could hear a heartbeat. But whether its his or yours, you cannot tell.

His hand lingers on your hip, spreading heat there across your waist, sliding it upwards slowly and gently over your stomach, six fingertips feathering and leaving trails of warmth along your cool skin. You shiver and he can't help but stop, smile and laugh again under his breath. Embarrassed, you want to tell him to shut up, but at this moment you are struggling to even remember how to breathe. And you barely have time to, for in the next he leans down to capture your reddened lips once more.

You shiver feeling teeth gently nibbling at your lower lip. They playfully ask for access to the sweetness of your mouth to which you more than happily and quickly give without wasting another precious second more of time.

In the back of your mind, you mused over just how much better Ford had gotten at this. Practice really does make perfect, you think to yourself in a heady red haze; his lips moving from your own and slowly down your chest kiss by torrid kiss. He was by no means inexperienced, but he had been rather shy with you in the beginning. You assumed it was with the intention of being respectful, but now he was getting much more confident and even cheeky at times, The smartass.

You admitted he never ceased to amaze you. This was a whole another side of Stanford Pines that only you got to see. It was exciting. Exhilarating, even–in its own way.

His hand continues to slide upward, thumb just barely grazing the curve of your breast. His fingers stop just at the top of your blouse, pinching the string of the loose little bow tied there; lingering as if waiting for your consent. 

Between the space of a moment, your eyes lock onto his. Only the sound of hastening breath and cricket songs fill it as you silently nod and reach up to pull his face down to yours for another smoldering kiss.

You felt as though that was more than a good enough answer to his plight.

His free hand right away resumes its inquisition, pulling the bow loose before roving up onto your breast where he gives it a gentle but firm and sure squeeze.

Instantly you arched up into his touch, a soft noise rising from your chest. He moans into your mouth softly in kind.

You are now far too hot but also far too cold–and yet you wish you could stay in this moment forever. But like all good things, it eventually ends when he abruptly parts from you, pulling away to look into your face silently.

“Um… actually, dear, there _was_ something I've been meaning to talk about with you.” Ford said with a voice surprisingly composed for someone so...excited. His free hand fidgeted nervously with the loosened ties of your shirt. He takes a deep breath, inhaling and exhaling calmly.

He'd brooded over and rehearsed this talk at least 30 times over in his head and each time it had ended badly. Normally he was so composed, so sure and confident about making his feelings known and saying what it was he wanted to say. But as it was time and time before, he stalled like an old car lost in the desert. The moment he looked down into those longingly endless wells of your eyes and the way the glittering lantern lights danced in your pupils, he was lost. The words never found their way home to the ends of his lips.

Now it was your turn to be worried.

At his abrupt silence, you made a move to sit up on your elbow. But just as quickly, he soothed his large and warm palm over your chest gently, reassuring you that everything was indeed 'fine'.

“Is everything you okay?” you curl your hand over his there, fingers wrapping around all six of his own to give a gentle loving squeeze in the way you had always done to soothe him. A way without words to let him know that everything was going to be okay.

“Yes. Everything is fine. Perfect, even. But–” he trailed off, losing place again and inwardly cursing himself for it.

“Whatever it is, you know you can talk to me about it,” you say  quietly with that look in your eyes. The one he sometimes resented in the way that it reminded him of just how weak you made him. Of how good you truly were. Too good for anyone to deserve. Especially him, he often thought.

“Of course,” he nods all too quickly. He couldn't lose face now. If he didn't speak up, he might completely miss the opportunity. Or worse, he would risk coming off as awkward; which was something he did all too well. Though that ship had probably sailed a long time ago in this conversation, he decided. He again took a deep breath and cleared his throat.

 

“I, uh...I know we aren't exactly the most 'conventional' family...” he began, averting his gaze to the old lamps lining the wall and covered in cobwebs. “And you and I don't have the most 'conventional’ relationship.” Ford now rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

You slowly sat up, half of your face now illuminated by the ebbing moonlight filtering through the open window. You’d never seen him act quite this way before. It was a little concerning.

“Neither of us are getting any younger, and… there’s going to come a time where I can’t continue the work I’ve started here.”  

“So, there is a time to retire,” you say with a hint of playfulness twinkling behind your eyes.  
  
“And I will– _we_ will,” he corrects himself, but he’s not entirely sure who he’s including.  A beat passes before he continues. “But before that, I would like to pass down my life’s work. This, and everything I do, is my legacy… _our_ legacy.  And that's too important to leave to just _anyone_ .”  
  
“I thought that was what Dipper was coming up here to do during the summers.”  
  
Ford shook his head.  “It’s just for now, until I…I…”  he trails off, clearing his throat.  “Dipp-…um, _Mason_ has his own hopes, his own dreams that he wishes to pursue.  As much as I know he would follow in my footsteps if asked, it’s not what he has set out to do.  I could not bring myself to ask him to. Afterall, he’s not–”  
  
“Your son.” you finish his sentence, meeting his eyes through the dimness.

Before you can formulate what to say next, he grasps both of your hands, leaning into you for approval. His eyes brightened with validation from your words. You hadn’t realized the gravity of what you’d said until he was within inches of your face, practically waiting on bated breath for your reaction.

  
_Oh. Oh no. Oh gosh.  He couldn’t mean..._

“That’s… that’s not–I meant–”  Your eyes widened considerably, slowly and fully realizing just where this talk was headed.

_Can I take it back?_

_You_ were so caught off guard, that you were at a complete loss for words. Instead you nervously chewed on your bottom lip as the stars in his eyes faded seeing your expression change. He seemed quite serious and you wondered just how long he had been thinking about this.

“Mason was never meant to take on the sole responsibility, at least not long term.” he continued.  “But what I am trying to say is...”

He paused awkwardly one last time, his grip on your hands tightening as he leaned in closer.

By now, you thought your heart might leap out of your chest. 

Just as you slowly opened your mouth to call a timeout, a sudden crash and clatter very loudly filled the space of quiet between the two of you. It was shortly followed by what sounded like Stan screaming.

In your alarm you jumped up, knocking right into Ford.

“AHHH!” he cried out in pain, holding both hands above his eye.

“Oh! God! Sorry!” You gritted your teeth, cringing and trying your best to apologize in your panic. Whipping your head back towards the stairs, you quickly looked back to Ford who was trying his best to stand and navigate in his disorientation. As soon as you were sure he was okay, you raced out the door as fast as your bare feet would carry you across the cool wooden floors.

In the back of your racing mind you were thankful for the distraction. That made you feel bad. This was something very important to Ford, you could tell. But truthfully, you weren't entirely sure how you were going to respond to what it was you _think_ Ford was asking.

But for now whatever _it_ was, it would have to wait.

 

It is an old story, this irresistible and ceaseless onflow of life and time; time always scattering the flowers of life with a lavish hand along its course... ~Hamilton Wright Mabie (1846–1916), "New Year's Eve" (c.1885),  _My Study Fire_

 

 

 

           

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!
> 
> Before anything else is addressed, I just really wanted to apologize to everyone for how long this update took.  
> My original plan was to update this during each month of summer, as the story itself I really wanted to give that feeling and experience of summertime magic. 
> 
> But life as we know can get very complicated as it did for me. A mix of time constraints, maintaining mental health and working on personal and professional works all have had a large effect on my time. Although I have a lot of personal responsibilities I am focusing on, I still attempt to work on this story a few times a week.
> 
> I've learned a lot about writing and editing this past Summer. I am very thankful for Starlie_Quinn for not only taking the time to Beta and help edit this story but for the encouragement and different perspective she gives me. Not just for this work but for writing as a whole.
> 
> As always I hope you the precious reader enjoyed this awaited chapter. I will for sure get back to the next this weekend. :)
> 
> -CC


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